


synchronicity

by princessoftheworlds



Category: Doctor Who (2005), Torchwood
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Episode: s01e11 Boom Town, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-17
Updated: 2020-03-17
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:15:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23191510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princessoftheworlds/pseuds/princessoftheworlds
Summary: Sighing, Ianto continues further up the Plass, the soles of his boots striking against the cobblestone as he rounds around the water tower. Then he glances up, and his mouth drops open in shock.Right there, standing smackdab in the center of the Plass, as striking and obvious as it could possibly be, is a bright blue wooden box with glowing windows.Jack and Ianto have a chance meeting in Cardiff, two years and several tragedies too early.
Relationships: Jack Harkness/Ianto Jones
Comments: 22
Kudos: 121





	synchronicity

**Author's Note:**

> Second Torchwood fic, and second fic in a week! I'm on a roll; I guess that's what a quarantine will do to you. Blame the Jacks Man Hole gc on Twitter for this one too!
> 
> Unedited, so if there're any major mistakes, just comment them, lmao. Not unnecessary constructive crit, tho. 
> 
> Also, I haven't heard the Torchwood One audios yet, but I tried to keep what I do know about them consistent with this fic.

_Oh, go to Pandora, Ianto_ , Ianto Jones grumbles as he walks up the street, _get Mum a nice necklace or bracelet. You owe it to her; this is the first birthday of hers you’ve come home for since you moved to London._

He can vividly picture Rhiannon in his mind, her arms crossed over her chest, lips pursed, eyes boring holes into his skull, as she began to guilt him into making the trip from Newport to Cardiff.

_Maybe even stop by the Plass and buy her some of that dark chocolate she likes so much. There’s a little store there._

And when he’d attempted to protest, she’d taken him firmly by the arm and told him, _Look, if you do this, I won’t tell Mum that you never did call me for my birthday_.

If Ianto had known that this is what Rhiannon would do, he would have stayed in London, stayed with Lisa. 

Out of curiosity, he edges towards the Plass. He’s heard from Yvonne and the rumors that fly around Torchwood One that Torchwood Three is based somewhere around here. Torchwood Three is considered One’s young, redheaded step-sibling, the black sheep of all the Torchwood facilities. One never has kind words for them, nor does Yvonne. 

Supposedly, Three is led by a man who is “arrogant and obnoxious but pretty” and “flirts with everything and everyone his eyes land one.” The Torchwood rumor mill has even more extreme stories about encounters with him, but Ianto chooses to not lend them credence. 

Sighing, Ianto continues further up the Plass, the soles of his boots striking against the cobblestone as he rounds around the water tower. Then he glances up, and his mouth drops open in shock.

Right there, standing smackdab in the center of the Plass, as striking and obvious as it could possibly be, is a bright blue wooden box with glowing windows.

_Not just a wooden box_ , Ianto realizes. _A police box_ . _The TARDIS_.

Before his mind even registers the significance of what he’s seeing, his feet have carried him over to the TARDIS. Every bit of his Torchwood training is screaming for him to stop. 

If the TARDIS is here, the Doctor can’t be too far away, unless he’s in the TARDIS. According to Yvonne, Ianto would be looking for a man, likely white and possibly old, in eccentric, bright clothing and trailed by a pretty young woman. 

_The Doctor only spells trouble. He’s responsible for a lot of death and destruction that he leaves in his wake. He’s dangerous._

Ianto should really, _really_ call his boss. Yvonne would know what to do; she would give him explicit instructions on how to proceed.

Once again, curiosity gets the best of him. 

Slowly and cautiously, he knocks once on the closest panel of the door. Then there’s the faint sound of footsteps growing closer and closer until the TARDIS’s door creaks open.

Someone should really oil those hinges, Ianto notes.

“Whatever you’re selling, I am _most definitely_ buying,” says an unfamiliar baritone. Confident. Enthusiastic. Dripping in charm. _American_. The owner of the voice is unexpectedly handsome, and Ianto blinks, taken aback. Cleft chin, impressive jawline, short dark hair. Bright blue eyes - almost as vivid as the TARDIS - that are currently appreciatively trailing over Ianto’s body.

Unaccustomed to being ogled so openly, especially by a man who looks like _that_ , Ianto takes an abrupt step back. “Um,” he says.

“Can I help you?” the man asks but not unkindly. He sounds friendly and like he genuinely means what he’s asking, like he would _love_ to help Ianto.

_You’re in a relationship_ , Ianto reminds himself. _Remember Lisa_ . _You love Lisa_ . _You’re moving in with her soon_.

He glances back over the man, who’s leaning at such an angle against the TARDIS door frame that his whole body is visible. On display, one might even say. 

Boots, khakis, a bold blue t-shirt, and a tan-colored bomber jacket. Ianto thinks he even spies leather gloves poking out of a pocket of the jacket. It’s...modern enough, but the outfit is still something that no self-respecting twenty-first century man would wear.

Plus, the man’s in the TARDIS.

“That depends,” replies Ianto finally. “Are you going to tell me what you’re doing in Cardiff? Are we to see little green men dropping down from the sky any moment?”

The man, _the Doctor_ , only smiles charmingly. “Just a visit,” he says. “The TARDIS needed to refuel, and you have a convenient supply of Rift energy.” A beat. “Plus, this city’s pretty interesting. Twenty-first century humans are so unique.” His smile grows. “And so easy on the eye.” He delivers Ianto another pointed glance.

Ianto blushes, warmth blooming across his pale Welsh skin, but he’s already been distracted by the Doctor’s original statement about the Rift. To his Torchwood-trained ears, it spells disaster. “I’m afraid that I am going to have to ask you to leave,” he begins, attempting a steely, authoritative tone. “Take your companion, get back inside your TARDIS, and go. I won’t risk any of these civilians to your schemes, Doctor.” He hopes that his voice isn’t quivering as much as he thinks it is.

The Doctor’s expression doesn’t waver as Ianto speaks, although a hint of bewilderment enters his eyes. “Oh, _baby_.” His lips lift into a devilish smirk, “I’m not the Doctor.” A strained moment passes as Ianto stares back at him, stunned into silence. “Cap’n Jack Harkness. Nice to meet ya!” He offers Ianto a quick, lazy salute. 

The man’s name filters into his confused consciousness, ringing with familiarity, but he can’t place it in his hazy state. “So you’re _not_ the Doctor?” he asks slowly.

“ _Nope_ ,” Captain Harkness confirms, bouncing slightly where he stands. Then his eyes narrow. “And what’s this about the Doctor having to leave?”

Ianto blinks out of his bewilderment and back into awareness. He stiffens his spine. “The Doctor is a time-travelling alien who has wrought major destruction on this planet throughout its history. He is dangerous. I work for an organization that wishes to apprehend him, but,” and here, Ianto hesitates, and here, Captain Harkness definitely notices, “to avoid further conflict and possible harm to the civilians around us, I would ask him to leave immediately.”

Captain Harkness barks out a loud, booming laugh. “You really do have balls, don’t ya?” He levels an assessing glance to Ianto. “What’s your man?”

“Jones,” blurts out Ianto without knowing why. “Ianto Jones.”

“Well, Jones, Ianto Jones,” Captain Harkness says, absolutely _butchering_ Ianto’s name in that accent of his, “you don’t sound too sure of that organization of yours.” He grins. 

“It’s the best job I’ve ever had,” Ianto admits. “I learned about things I would have never believed in before. That there’s more out there in this universe than just us humans. That there’s worlds and creatures beyond my wildest dreams.” He pauses. “But some of their policies are a little extreme for me. Surely, as a military man, you can understand that, Captain Harkness.”

“ _Oooh_ , I love the way my name sounds in your _delightful_ accent,” Captain Harkness purrs, and honestly, Ianto is too charmed by the man to roll his eyes at the cheesy flirting, “but just call me Jack.” 

Captain Harkness, _Jack_ , leans forward, and Ianto catches a more intense whiff of his cologne. It’s delicious and strong but not overpowering or unwelcome and causes warmth to begin to pool at the pit of Ianto’s stomach. Instinctively, he sways a bit more towards the other man.

“Let me tell you a secret, Ianto,” Jack says. “That organization of yours is _right_. I’ve traveled the universe, traversed the stars, and I’ve seen words and aliens that humans can’t even dream up. Tentacles, wings, extra limbs, many mouths, you name it! I’ve talked with them, traded with them, fought with them.” He leans in just a bit more closely, slowly decreasing the inches between him and Ianto, and drops his voice to a hushed whisper that causes sparks of arousal to dance up Ianto’s skin. “But the best way to experience them is wrapped around your body. Let me tell you, it may not sound like it, but feathers feel heavenly against your co-”

“ _Okay_ ,” Ianto says suddenly with a cough, pretending that he’s not half-hard at Jack’s words and voice. “If you’re not the Doctor, then where is he?”

Jack shrugs. “I dunno. He took off. I think he’s visiting the mayor.”

_The mayor_ ? That doesn’t sound good. But before Ianto can protest or demand that Jack call the Doctor back, the ground ripples between his feet. He’s knocked off-balance with a quiet _Ooof_ and collides with a warm chest before a quick hand reaches to steady him, and the strange phenomenon ends as quickly as it began.

Jack grips his shoulder firmly. “You okay?” he asks in concern. “ _What was that_?” His lips are close enough to Ianto’s face that he can feel the other man’s breath as he speaks.

Ianto gasps, attempting to clear his mind and _think_ , but it’s a bit hard; with each breath, he takes in another deep breath of Jack’s irresistible scent. “An earthquake,” he says finally. “Cardiff gets them sometimes.”

Almost immediately, the ground ripples again but this time with more force. Jack and Ianto steady themselves against the TARDIS’s door frame and wait it out. It takes a solid minute before Ianto stops feeling false tremors underneath his feet. 

Jack straightens up. “I don’t think that was an earthquake,” he says, and his eyes darken in realization. “I gotta go. The Doctor needs me.”

“Wait.” Ianto steps before Jack urgently. “You can’t just leave! Not if the city’s going to be at risk. Especially not if the Doctor’s involved.” He fixes Jack with a stern expression.

“Sorry, Ianto.” And he really does look genuinely apologetic. “But the Doctor’s the only one who can help.” He steps forward until Ianto has no choice but to step backward, forced out of the TARDIS and onto the Plass again. Jack pulls the TARDIS door shut behind him. “Stay safe.”

As Jack tries to slip past him, Ianto latches onto his arm. “I won’t stop you from trying to play the hero, but at least tell me what’s going on!”  
  


Jack’s expression softens. “I’m sorry, Ianto Jones. I hope you get to see the stars one day,” he whispers, and before Ianto knows it, warm lips are on his, kissing him within an inch of his life. His toes curl in his boots as he leans into the solid body before him; the kiss feels like a promise, but that would be odd, a promise from a stranger, no matter if he’s as charming as Jack.

Then Jack Harkness steps back and dashes away, leaving Ianto standing by the TARDIS, his lips tingling.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr [here](http://princess-of-the-worlds.tumblr.com/) or on Twitter [here](https://twitter.com/rajkumarinik) to let me know how much you liked this fic or request a prompt.


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